


Fite me IRL

by roadsoftrial



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Pre-Relationship, m-rated drunken shenanigans, remember kids dont drink and snapchat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadsoftrial/pseuds/roadsoftrial
Summary: In which Ravus and Aranea try to figure out what thehellhappened last night.





	Fite me IRL

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula/gifts).



> Written for the delightful [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula)!!  
> I hope you enjoy these almost t-rated chu shenanigans :')
> 
> (Beta'd by the lovely [Aliatori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliatori)!!)

Ravus Nox Fleuret wakes up with the feeling that something is trying to split his head open with a rock. A razor-sharp rock. More like a knife, really, a razor-sharp knife, stabbing him right between the eyes. He opens them for all of ten seconds before the morning light filtering through the crack made by the thin curtains to his left becomes too unbearable. (He does not have a window on the left wall of his bedroom, but can’t make enough sense of anything to worry about it.)

When he opens his eyes again, he isn’t sure how much time has passed, but the pain is still there, the slightest bit less sharp than before, so there _is_ that. He can keep his eyes open for all of 20 seconds without feeling like his head is about to burst like a watermelon with one too many rubber bands tied around it.

That’s when it hits him. He is _not_ in his bedroom.

He hears bustling, likes plates clashing against one another (but that feels like nails on a chalkboard), from outside the strange bedroom. He isn’t quite sure if he should get up to see who he’s dealing with. In this shape, he judges it best to play it safe.

He slowly, very, very slowly sits up in the bed, the grey comforter and lilac sheets pooling around his waist.

It wasn’t slow enough. There’s that sharp stab in his skull again. He can’t stop the groan that escapes his throat as his body folds in half from the pain. And of course, as he does he feels a foreboding lurch in his stomach.

Oh no. Oooooh no.

He tries to get out of the bed so he can reach a toilet before the worst can happen. That is, until he remembers he has no clue where he is nor where the bathroom might be. He doesn’t have time to think of a plan B before the worst happens anyway, all over the sheets and his naked chest.

‘Are you fucking _serious?’_ he hears from the other room, a woman’s voice. It sounds vaguely familiar.

He isn’t sure whether he’s angrier that he’s been found out, or that he’ll be found like _this,_ naked (why is he naked?!), covered in his own vomit and barely able to stand upright.

He keeps an eye on the door as he grabs the unsoiled part of the sheet and ponders whether he should use it to wipe his chest or cover up.

The bedroom door slams open before he can reach a decision.

It’s…

‘Oh _fuck_ ,’ he gasps, then curls back onto himself, retches and throws up again.

‘Well good fucking morning to you too, asshole,’ Aranea says, but from the effect on his head, she might as well have yelled it.

‘Is this how you talk to your Prince?’ he manages to hiss between two dry heaves.

‘You’re not exactly in any shape to do anything about it, are you, _Highness?,’_ she nags, and he would reprimand her at length for such disrespect if she weren’t so absolutely correct.

‘Where are we, anyway?’ he asks after wiping his chest and mouth with a clean corner of the mostly ruined sheets, a suspicious look on his face.

‘This is my apartment.’

‘Oh.’ He takes a long look around. ‘I’m sorry, do we not pay you enough?’

Her eyebrows lift so high they disappear under her bangs.

‘We can’t all be born into fucking royalty, your _Grace_ ,’ she spits with a sarcastic bow, but there’s the faintest curl at the corner of her lips, and Ravus chuckles at the sight.

‘It’s not so bad. It’s, um… quaint, I suppose.’

‘Oh fuck you,’ she laughs, really laughs this time, but doesn’t miss an opportunity to sock him in the shoulder anyway.

‘I suppose I deserved that,’ he smiles with a grunt.

‘Yup. Now give me those before your gunk cakes in.’

He starts gathering the sheets, then pauses, remembering his very total nakedness in front of a… well, he wouldn’t go as far as to call her a _lady,_ but he needs to remember at least some of his manners.

‘Um… Can you leave while I do so?’

‘Why?’

‘I’m naked?’

She cackles loudly at that, a not so gentle reminder of his ever so present headache. He winces at the sound.

‘Babe, I’ve seen you naked already. You know that, right?’

He did not. When in the everloving fuck did that happen?

‘Okay. Okay. Two things. First, do _not_ call me _babe._ ’

‘You didn’t mind last ni—’

‘Second,’ he interrupts, ‘what the _fuck_ happened last night?!’

For the first time since he walked into the room, it looks like Aranea has lost the upper hand. She opens her mouth many times, as if to start an explanation, but gives up right away every time.

‘I have no idea,’ she finally admits. ‘I mean, I remember parts of it. But it’s kind of a blur.’

That’s already more than he can say for himself. He has no recollection of what they could’ve possibly done that would’ve landed them in this situation: the two of them at Aranea’s apartment, him naked and her wearing…

‘Is that my shirt?!’ he asks in a complete non-sequitur.

‘What?’ she asks, looking down at her own torso. ‘Huh, I guess so! _Anyway,_ I’ll let you and your dignity deal with the sheets. Washer’s first door to your left,’ she says as she turns around and leaves the room. He tries really hard to convince himself that the sight of her ass peeking out from the bottom of his (oversized on her) t-shirt has no effect whatsoever on him.

***

After rummaging through the entire room for a good five minutes in search of clothes other than his black boxer-briefs, he finally gives up. Aranea has supposedly already seen him naked anyway. And he isn’t exactly ashamed of his physique, either, so she’ll have to endure.

He goes back to the bed and gathers the grimy sheets into a loose ball before finally leaving the hallway and finding the laundry room. After digging through all the cabinets for detergent, he starts a load and goes look for the bathroom. He succeeds after stumbling onto three closets on the way (what kind of apartment has this many closets??). He takes a quick piss, looks through more cabinets (what kind of apartment has this many cabinets???) for mouthwash and some kind of painkillers. He then takes a quick shower without bothering to ask, figuring Aranea would rather not talk to him while he has puke remnants all over his body.

He leaves the bathroom once he’s done and follows the noise to find Aranea in her kitchen.

She’s busy making coffee, but Ravus doesn’t miss how her gaze lingers when she turns around as he walks in. He pulls a chair and starts biting into one of the apples on display in a bowl in the middle of the table.

‘Here,’ she says once she’s done. She throws her phone onto the table and it lands right in front of him. ‘And, here,’ as she hands him a cup of coffee without asking how he takes it, because that’s the kind of useless things she already knows.

He takes the cup, then stares at the phone, then at her, puzzled by what she expects him to do.

‘Let’s find out how bad last night was. Turns out I was smart enough to document everything on Snapchat for the whole world to see.’

‘I wouldn’t call that smart,’ he tries to thunder, but he’s still not quite well enough to be able to get properly angry about anything for the time being. ‘Did you look at any of it?’

‘And miss this great bonding opportunity? I would _never.’_

‘Why are you feeling so well,’ he replies with as much disgust in his voice as he can muster, which isn’t that much, really. In all the years they have known each other, he has never truly been able to stay angry with her (and Shiva knows he has tried).

‘I’m not. I puked my guts out while you were asleep,’ she admits offhandedly.

‘You shouldn’t have told me. I was almost impressed with you for a second.’

‘Oh shut up,’ she laughs, and Ravus can’t contain his smirk at the sound.

‘Shall we?’ he sighs as he points at the phone, hoping she’ll pick it before he has to admit he doesn’t know how to use Snapchat, let alone what Snapchat is.

She mercifully grabs the phone and pulls up a chair so she can sit near him at the table. Their shoulders are pressed against one another, surprisingly warm and comfortable, so Ravus doesn’t make light of it—enjoys it, even. Aranea flicks the screen open with her right thumb and taps on a yellow icon in the bottom left corner.

She taps around a few more time, and Ravus figures she knows what she’s doing because soon enough, they are staring at the first of what appears to be close to 20 different pictures.

It’s a picture of him, fully dressed and looking grumpier than ever.

‘Is this in a bar?’ he asks instead of asking if he always looks this unhappy and disgruntled.

‘Looks like it,’ she says as she stares more closely at the screen. ‘Looks like that shitty place all the army grunts go to.’

‘And you brought me _there?!’_

‘I _guess?_ The beer is cheap, no chance of running into anyone you know. It makes sense!’

As much as he wishes he could, he can’t argue with that logic.

She taps through the next five pictures, all of him from the same angle as the first one, the pink tint on his cheeks growing deeper in every picture, at the same rate as the frown gradually disappearing from his face and the empty pints and shot glasses piling up next to him. He looks… happy? Relaxed? He certainly can’t remember the last time he’s looked this carefree.

‘You’re cute when you’re shitfaced, Highness, did you know that?’

‘Please,’ he groans with a roll of his eyes. ‘Just… shut up and keep going.’

She cackles at his poorly hidden discomfort, to which Ravus nudges her with his shoulder and nods towards the phone.

‘Fine, fine,’ she sighs and taps on the picture.

What comes next is a video. Ravus does _not_ have a good feeling about it.

‘ _Are you filming this?’_ his voice yells over the loud music, and he sees himself standing on a chair, overlooking the entire bar, almost tipping over a few times and staring at Aranea with a heated passion.

‘ _Yes!’_ her voice yells back, far too close to the microphone. _‘C’mon, repeat what you just told me!’_

‘ _You know who I can take in a fight? Easily??’_ he continues with a determination in his eyes he didn’t know he was physically capable of having.

‘ _Tells us Ravus!’_ Aranea’s voice yells again.

‘ _Little piece of shit Prince Noctis…L-Lucis FUCKING Caelum. Come find me Noctis! I’ll fight you! I’ll kick your dainty litt—’_

His slurred speech continues, the words buried by Aranea’s shrill laughter.

Ravus turns to look at her, only to realize that Aranea is _still_ cackling as what could very well be considered a war declaration.

‘This isn’t funny!’ he snaps, and Aranea manages to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before snorting loudly and cracking up all over again. ‘It’s really not!’ he tries again, but his voice breaks before he can finish his sentence, and he’s laughing with her before long.

This is absolutely ridiculous, but what’s done is done; laughing about it seems the least painful option.

‘Gods, just… next picture…’ he sighs, and Aranea complies with the command.

What comes next is a series of pictures of Ravus all across the bar. In one of them, he’s hugging 4 strangers at once, then blushing as an older lady kisses his cheek. He’s climbing on the bar on the next, then standing on that same bar _dabbing_ like some kind of uncivilized plebeian. Then the next picture shows him outside, standing next to the bar, facing the wall. He’s wearing sunglasses (he has no idea where they came from nor who they belong to), one of his hands throwing a very long, very heartfelt middle finger at Aranea while the other…

‘Am I _peeing?!’_

‘Yes!’ she yelps, and dies laughing as Ravus stares in horror.

‘I’m peeing _on_ the bar! Why didn’t I go inside?!’

Aranea lets out a noise that sounds like ‘I don’t know’ as she struggles to catch her breath.

He has… so many questions.

As shocked as he is, the pictures are… almost endearing (except for the last one, of course). Or they would be had he not been the Prince of Tenebrae out on a drunken rampage where anyone could’ve seen him.

‘Did… did anyone recognize me?’ he asks as he rubs his eyes, realizing for the first time how bad this could all end up turning.

‘Told ‘em you were an impersonator. They seemed to buy it,’ Aranea shrugs, and Ravus is willing to believe a bunch of drunk idiots would accept such a blatant lie.

Without prompting, Aranea taps on the screen to reach the next instalment of the retelling of their bizarre night.

It’s another video. They aren’t in the bar anymore—they seem to be walking down the street.

‘ _It’s um… 3 o’clock, and this idiot over here,’_ she narrates as she jumps to tap Ravus’ shoulder wit the back of her hand, _‘decided he wanted gravy fries, and—’_

_‘I said I_ deserved _them!’_ he hears himself scream in the background, and can’t help cringing in embarrassment.

_‘—aaaand so we’re looking for that one place and, um, we’re lost!—’_

_‘I know you don’t trust in me,’_ his voice says slowly, and his expression is grave as he takes a swig of a flask (and where did _that_ come from?!) and hands it to Aranea, so solemn, so serious, all of a sudden, _‘but I_ need _you to trust me, ‘Nea, okay?!’_

‘Why am I so intense?’ he asks, incredulous, to which Aranea shrugs with a ripple of laughter.

On the screen, the video ends on Ravus hugging Aranea (almost choking her, really) after she assured him she did, in fact, trust him.

It’s… charming, almost. In a very sad and pathetic way.

‘Well, thank you for believing in me, I suppose,’ he snarks, and she rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs before innocuously dipping her head on his shoulder.

‘I wasn’t about to try and argue with your drunken ass,’ she simply responds as Ravus wheezes.

The next video starts immediately, and this time they are both facing the camera, Aranea’s arm outstretched so they both fit in the screen. They seem to be sitting by the curb, and Ravus’ left arm is snugly wrapped around Aranea’s waist, pulling her against him while his other hand is holding something from which drunk-Ravus can’t seem to take his eyes off, a sulky look on his face.

‘ _So we couldn’t find the place,’_ her giggly voice goes, still very much drunk, ‘ _but we found HOT-DOGS!’_ she screams as she shows the bun and sausage covered in ketchup she’s holding in her other hand.

‘ _I’m so sad,’_ Ravus pouts with the whiniest little voice, and neither of their hungover selves can contain their laughter at the sight of Ravus’ giant body, all floppy and leaning against Aranea, the most disappointed scowl anyone has ever witnessed on his face.

There is one final video after that.

They’re in a playground, and Ravus is far away, trying to climb up the slide instead of taking the ladder, and failing miserably, but trying over and over again with the kind of determination only someone as intoxicated as he is can have.

‘ _Look at this idiot,’_ Aranea’s voice snorts. _‘You’re doing amazing babe!’_ she then yells, to which Ravus looks up, lets go of the slide to flex for the camera, causing him to slip all the way back down as Aranea cackles.

_‘I like when you call me babe!’_ his slurred voice yells.

‘Told you,’ Aranea says triumphantly, and Ravus rolls his eyes and mindlessly runs his fingers through the tip of her ponytail as her head still lays on his shoulder.

Aranea’s voice picks up again on the phone as she turns the camera towards herself and takes a final swig from her flask.

_‘He’s a big idiot, but, y’know… I still like him a lot, somehow,’_ she shrugs.

_‘WHAT?’_ Ravus yells from afar.

_‘I said YOU’RE DUMB!’_ she yells back as she turns the camera back to Ravus.

_‘Thank you,’_ Ravus’s voice fades as he flops onto the sand of the playground, giving up at last.

Nothing happens for a few second, except for Aranea’s quiet laughter. She then turns the camera back towards herself one last time.

‘ _I’mma… fuck, I’mma go kiss his dumb face, now. See ya.’_

And that’s the end of their adventure.

They sit in silence, not sure what to say to that.

‘Well…’ Ravus finally says, pulling back so he can look at her, ‘did you do it?’

She refuses to meet his eyes, and to see Aranea so rattled certainly is a first for him. She looks at him at last.

‘I, um. Yeah.’

‘I thought you didn’t remember,’ he notes, but there’s a softness in his voice that somehow convinces Aranea to keep going.

‘I said I remembered _some_ of it,’ she corrects. ‘Anyway, after that we, ah… we made out on the walk home, and… well, we were going to fuck but you were kind of out of it by that point, and so was I, so we didn’t, which is probably for the best…’

‘Oh... Yes, probably.’

She pauses, looking embarrassed as she fiddles with her phone.

‘I’m sorry,’ she finally says. ‘I know this whole thing was a bad idea, I just… You were feeling down and I snuck you out so you could chill for a night, I didn’t mean to—’

‘Wait, you did?’

‘… Yeah? You texted me last night, you sounded really bummed out.’

And for the first time since he woke up, he feels angry at _himself_ for blacking out like he did. If he’s honest, he may have wanted to kiss Aranea for a long time, but never grew the nerve, and knowing that he finally _did_ kiss her _,_ and that he can’t remember a thing, well…

‘You ok?’

‘I am. I just… wish I remembered,’ he throws offhandedly.

‘I can fix that… if you insist,’ she smirks, and there’s that twitch in his stomach again, but it’s a good one this time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Come fite me irl on [tumblr](http://roadsoftrial.tumblr.com/) and [ffxv tumblr](https://thelegendarynoctgar.tumblr.com/)!!)


End file.
